Kris Longknife's Bloodhound, a novella by Mike Shepherd Page B

bring the word back, and I figure I can run just as fast as that Longknife brat.”
    “And the aliens will follow you back.”
    “Did they follow her back?” the commander asked, and applied herself to her toy, who responded with a delighted moan.  “Let’s say, you’re right.  The aliens find out where we are from the freighter’s nav gear.  I still have a ship.  I’ve got several cute boys and girls in its crew.  I know some really wonderful desert planets that aren’t on anyone’s charts.  I set myself up fine.  Maybe I make a few trips out to get what we need.  Maybe I sell passenger slots on my ship to folks that want to run too.  I really don’t see a down side, mister-whoever-you-are.  Now,” she said, slithering out of her bottom, “you interrupted a nice roll in the hay.  If you want, you can stay and watch, but, please, be quiet.”
    Taylor had interrogated a lot of criminals in his time.  He’d learned to use silence as a scalpel to cut through resistance and get to the cancerous tumor of crime.  Never had he been at a loss for words.
    The total self-absorption and self-interest of this former Navy commander lolling in front of him left him speechless.
    He let himself out.  Behind him, someone groaned.  Someone else laughed.
    “Did what we think just happened actually happen?” came from Leslie in his earbud.
    “It most certainly did,” Taylor whispered, as he made his way toward the Bureau’s surveillance van.  “You can send the SWAT folks home, unless they want to make it an orgy.”
    “They’re taking a vote on that,” Leslie said.
    Taylor adjusted himself before he entered the van.  Yes, he was intent on the mission, but he had eyes, and they were connected to a male brain.
    “So, what do we do?” his boss asked.
    “Rick, Leslie, monitor all communications from that house,” Taylor ordered.
    “I would think they’d be otherwise involved,” Rick said.”
    “We got a message coming out,” Leslie said.
    “As I expected, the display was to discomfort me,” Taylor said.  “No doubt, it ended the moment I left the building.”
    “Damn,” Leslie said.”
    “Damn for what?” Taylor said.
    “For something interruptus,” Leslie said, “and for the message.  It was just a squirt of something in code.  And it was addressed to a number that isn’t in our database.”
    “The Bureau has every net number on the planet,” the boss said.
    “Not this one,” Leslie countered.
    “It must be nice to have produced and sold our planet’s communications security system,” Taylor said, dryly.  “No doubt there are several numbers not in our database.”
    “I’m tracking that number,” Leslie said.  “It just made a call to another one.  It shot the same message out.  Oh, and that number also isn’t one we know about.  It’s going to another number.  This may take a while.”
    “And, no doubt, the message is flashing faster than we are tracking it.  It will get somewhere well before we follow it,” Taylor said.
    “No doubt,” his boss said.  “Any idea what it says?”
    “If it says anything other than, ‘we’ve been found out,’ you may have my pension,” Taylor said.
    “I think you’re pension is safe,” she said.  “So, what happens now?”  
    “I suspect that a well laid plan will get sped up,” Taylor said.  “Rick, check out the orders that were placed for cargo.  How much has been delivered?”
    “About half so far,” he reported.  “Oh, what don’t you know.  They’ve just begun to speed up the scheduled deliveries.  They’re also canceling anything that can’t be delivered by noon tomorrow.”
    “That was fast,” his boss said.
    “I suspect that our attention has not gone unnoticed,” Taylor said.  “I would bet that when we accessed Prometheus, a flag went up in Longknife Tower.  No doubt, this need for speed was not totally unexpected.”
    “They’re moving,” came from the driver of the van.  Taylor